Guilt is a bizarre thing
by Bonomania
Summary: Wilson and House have a falling out. House has a weird feeling. Is it...no it can't be...wait, yes. It's guilt! And guilt can manifest itself in very strange ways. House/Wilson friendship - with hints of slash if you squint. Bit crackish. A/N inside.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, firstly my apologies for such a short starting chapter - it just seemed like the perfect place to end it. This fic will be in 3 chapters, the third chapter is already written and will be the longest, it just needs tweaking XD Please stay with me - enjoy!  
**

**House's Cane **

**Chapter 1**

"Fine. Look, it's late. I can't do this now. Sometimes…I-I-I don't know why I even bother. You can be so…so damn…" With that, Wilson shook his head and left House's office. It wasn't like House to feel particularly guilty after one of his and Wilson's altercations, but House was almost glad Wilson hadn't finished what he was about to say.

The ride home on his bike was completely automatic to the point that by the time he'd reached his apartment he couldn't remember how he'd got there. He was zoned out all the way home, thinking about Wilson and playing a game of fill in the blanks.

"_You can be so…so damn..." So damn what, Wilson? _He thought. _Insensitive? Inconsiderate? No. _There was something in the way Wilson spoke that told House it was going to be worse than anything he'd ever said to him before. The silence as he walked out said more than words. The fact Wilson had to stop himself from finishing his outburst made House realise that, whatever it was, it would have been ugly. Sometimes it crossed his mind that one day; Wilson would walk out of the door of his office and never come back. The last time he'd see Wilson would be when he was walking away – he'd convinced himself of this.

House found himself sat on his couch in the dark, robotically bouncing his cane off his foot. His focus was nowhere in particular, but his mind was dead set on something to think about, whether House liked it or not – Wilson.

_I've really screwed up. _He let out a long sigh of defeat. _Damn it. Maybe I've just pushed this too far. _

"No you haven't." House was drawn suddenly from his reverie by a deep, unfamiliar voice.

_What the hell?!_ He gripped his cane tighter as he lent across the arm of the couch and switched on the lamp. His eyes darted around the room, but saw no one. As quick as he could, he forced himself to stand and, armed with his cane, swept the kitchen and the bedroom for intruders. No one.

_Must be over-tired. Just imagined it_, he thought to himself.

"Wrong again," _it_ said, but House was still none-the-wiser to where the voice was coming from.

"Who is it? Get out here, come on! Wilson, if this is you trying to get back at me, it's not gonna work and you're gonna find _more_ than 'uppers' in your coffee tomorrow!"

He struggled to keep the fear from his voice as he beckoned the intruder, but was more uneasy that whoever it was seemed to be able to accurately read his mind; something that even _Wilson_ hadn't quite mastered in all his years of knowing House.

"Come on, where are you?" his said shakily, his weapon still faithfully pinned to the floor. His safety, his third leg _and_ his loyal protector…But things could change…

"Ahem. Down here…"

House immediately looked down as he felt his cane twitch under his hand. He froze, his face the picture of scrutiny and bewilderment…and all the synonyms in between.

"It's rude to stare." Without a thought, House's hand shot from his side and threw the cane halfway across the room. His eyes were unnaturally wide as he rubbed them. After standing and staring at it as it lay still on the floor, he gradually made his way towards it, holding onto the couch as he went. He felt stupid, but he couldn't quite bring himself to pick it up. Instead, he prodded it with his foot, instantly berating himself for being so ridiculous. Scoffing to himself, he reached down and scooped it up from the floor, immediately heading back towards the couch.

"Don't panic," the voice called out from his hand and House visibly recoiled, "just don't let go. Hear me out."

_Okay. This is new._

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_**Next chapter up VERY soon! XD *Ellie*** (Just a quick note: what House said to Wilson to get him annoyed is not important in my eyes. If people want to know - I know some people like closure - then I'm sure I can make something up...XD)  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Firstly, thank you to people for reviews and favourites/alerts and all that jazz. You make me smile. Now to the story. Hope you liked the first installment, please R&R if you can spare the time and I will send you my lovely/slighty insane smile...otherwise I will beat you with House's cane. I jest, I jest. I expect nothing. Just don't say I didn't warn you when you see that cane-shaped silhouette creeping up on you...that's all I'm saying.  
Sorry, enough of me. Your enjoyment is all I ask for. I hope to keep you thoroughly entertained until christmas *hopes she doesn't fail miserably*so, enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

"So, let me get this straight…you can only…_talk…_to me when I'm touching you?"

"Ding. We have ourselves a winner. Y'know, for someone who's built his career and jerk-status on being right all the time, you sure do suck at it tonight."

"Oh, give it up. If I wanted a lecture I would've gone to Wilson."

"No, you wouldn't. And you _can't_. And you know it. He's had more of you than he can handle for one day. Hell, I wish I could just walk away. I have to put up with this everyday for Christ's sake –"

"Is there a point to this? I can always just leave you in the trash with all the other talking inanimate objects…you'll be very lonely." Still sceptical, he kept his cane in front of him, but at arms length, holding on with only his thumb and forefinger.

"Just shut up and listen for a minute. Believe it or not, I'm doing this for a reason. I mean, it make's sense…I help you walk, may as well share more of my wisdom." House rolled his eyes and sighed, but gave his cane his undivided attention.

"Okay, Cane –" _I've just named him. Great. _"What do you want?"

It was strange. Cane didn't have a mouth, but his voice – yes, it was almost certainly a he – just seemed to radiate from the curve in the handle. House could physically feel the wood vibrate under his hand when it spoke, much like the vibrating of vocal cords. It was extremely unsettling.

_This is Wilson's fault. First time I feel just a tiny bit of guilt and this is how it manifests itself. Just peachy._

"Right. Firstly, don't go blaming this on Wilson. You know what you did, you know what you said and you know it was stupid and wrong and you need to apologise."

"What is this, the Wilson appreciation society? You're _my _cane, not his. You know, Wilson sawed your brother in half," House whined.

"I'm not listening. Secondly, you can't throw me away, because believe it or not, you _need _me –"

"And his dog chewed through your mom."

"House, he is your friend and you need him to be around. He won't be around if you keep pushing him away." House's shoulders fell. He looked towards the clock. It was just after eleven pm and Wilson hadn't called or come over.

_Yep. He's really mad. Shit_, House thought.

"Yes he is," Cane said. House flinched, forgetting that Cane could hear his thoughts. His body was awash with a new vulnerability – now he couldn't hide _anything_. "All he needs is an apology, House – a _proper_ one. None of this, _I'm sorry what I said upset you_, crap. He needs to know you're truly sorry."

"Fine. I'll tell him in the morning –"

"No," Cane cut in, "you'll tell him _now_."

House wasn't used to people other than Cuddy telling him what to do; even then he'd usually find a way around it. He certainly wasn't used to being ordered around by a walking device.

"I'm tired _now_. He'll still be mad in the morning."

"If you don't tell him now, you get crap all sleep anyway. You'll complain about your leg. You'll doze off at four am. You'll complain when Cuddy calls you because you're late –"

House's expression swiftly began to twist into a vicious scowl.

"You'll complain that you have to get up. You'll complain that you have to take the car because you can't ride your bike –"

"Okay, I get it!" _Shut up!_

"No, I don't think you do and you _need _to hear this. You'll complain when you get outside that it's cold. You'll complain about your leg _again_. You'll complain you have no Vicodin left. You'll be in pain so your apology will suck and then you'll ask Wilson for a prescription and he'll think you only apologised because you were out of pills."

With that, House petulantly dropped Cane to the floor, thankful for the silence that followed. As his frustration faded, he sank into the couch cushions, trying to make sense of what he'd just spent the last hour doing.

_I talked to my cane. He talked to me. I gave him a name. Cane. I just called it a _him_. This is wrong. But he was right about Wilson. I could just go over there…No, it's damn cold out there tonight and I'm too tired…_

It suddenly dawned on him that Cane wasn't just right about Wilson, he was right about everything – and that only wound him up more. He thought back over everything Cane had said and realised why it bothered him so much – every single word rang true…and he hated it.

_Damn him! How did he know I was gonna complain about the cold?_ House sighed deeply.

"Fine. I'll call him. _Happy_?" he growled childishly at Cane, then shook his head realising how absurd the whole situation was. It was then that he had a slight problem. His leg hurt – he fought back a small laugh, remembering that Cane had predicted that too – and the journey to and from the kitchen would be a pain, not to mention actually getting up off of the couch. For a moment, his situation with Wilson was forced to the back of his mind as he weighed up the pros and cons of even _touching_ his cane again.

Seconds passed and then minutes.

"Okay! But shut up about Wilson." He bent down and placed his hand around Cane's handle. Cane didn't speak. House warily raised Cane off the floor and pressed the stopper-end to the carpet before stiffly pushing himself up from the couch. As he stood there, his eyes didn't move. They were fixed on Cane, bizarrely perplexed by his silence. He shuffled into the kitchen and picked up the phone, but continued to stare downwards.

A thought went through his head, _maybe it was just all in my head. Maybe someone dosed me…or I fell asleep and had a nightmare... _

House slowly drew Cane up to his ear…

"Just do it already!" a deep voice bellowed and House felt a tremor spread through his right hand. The shock was enough to send House backwards into the kitchen table. "Yes, I can still talk. No, you're not having a nightmare and you're not high. I thought you'd be able to do this on your own. Obviously not. Dial!"

"I was just about to! Pardon me for getting distracted by the fact I've spent the best part of my night talking to a piece of wood with verbal diarrhoea who _then_ decides to stop talking just to add to the confusion!"

After sending Cane a death glare, House straightened himself back up and started punching Wilson's number into the key pad. Just as he did, however, there was a knock at the door.

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**Chapter 3 up very soon XD And Merry Christmas btw (I know it's not quite here yet, but I just helped my family decorate the house so I wanted to spread some of the festive cheer I'm feeling right now.) Ahhh, my house smells like pine. Mmmmm. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, guys. Here is the final part. I'll let it speak for itself rather than rambling like I normally do. (Oh yeah, and something I forgot...I do NOT own House. Duh!) **

**Chapter 3**

"House…House, are you in there?"

Cane chirped up, "Looks like you don't need to call anymore," his voice was almost smug, "go on then…get the door." House stood still, staring at the door, but not moving from the spot.

"House, come on! Open the door!"

"What are you waiting for? Just open the door and apologise to him!" Cane exclaimed.

"I'm _going!_" House growled down at Cane before turning back to the door and yelling, "Alright, I'm coming."

But as he took the steps towards the door, he felt himself begin to shake and he couldn't stop worrying about what he was going to say to Wilson.

_An apology is an apology. I'll just say sorry and everything will be ok…_

"No it won't," Cane announced, "a simple 'sorry' won't be enough this time, House. He needs to know that you really mean it. He needs to know that you aren't just apologising for the sake of apologising. Hell, it's Wilson, you _know_ he'll want to talk about it…and this time, I think you owe it to him. Just explain. He'll listen."

House nodded and took a deep breath before raising his hand to the door knob and twisting.

"Hi House. May I come in?" Wilson was overly formal, the way he usually was when he and House had a falling out. However, House's reaction was far from normal. Wilson felt uncomfortable standing on the doorstep, his best friend not saying a word, just gawping at him, an odd expression on his face. He would have found it amusing had the circumstances not been so serious. It hit Wilson that House's expression resembled a look of fear or panic…but he quickly dismissed this idea when he realised who he was talking about.

House was still. The moment Wilson's face registered as he opened the door, his mind went into overdrive – stealing all the energy itself and leaving him bound to the piece of carpet beneath him.

_Oh shit. What do I say? How do I begin? I can't do this. How can _anybody_ do this? Do I do it here? Do I offer him a beer first? Do I even _have_ any beer? How long has it been since I opened the door? Damn it! How long have I been staring?!_

Cue Cane. "House, stop it!" House flinched slightly at the sudden outburst from beneath his hand. He dropped his eyes from Wilson's and laid them on Cane, watching and listening intently. "Just let him in and tell him to sit down!"

"House, are you alright?" Wilson asked, noticing the way House averted his gaze. _Could it be that he's actually feeling bad?_ Wilson pondered.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Come in." House stepped aside, allowing Wilson to brush past him. Wilson looked noticeably awkward. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and he didn't seem to know where to stand. House watched him.

"Look, House I know it's late, but I –"

"Wilson, sit down for a minute. I wanna say something."

A look of worry sprouted across Wilson's face, but he complied, making his way to the couch.

"Good start. That's the easy part over." Cane teased. House growled quietly in response, earning himself an alarmed look from a tired Wilson.

House shook his head, realising how insane he must've looked. He limped slowly to the couch, sitting on the side furthest away from his friend. He already felt ill at ease and he hadn't even spoken yet, but what he was about to do was _way_ beyond comfort.

"Wilson…" Nothing else came out. Wilson's eyes seemed to bore into House's brain; they widened slightly, prompting him to go ahead and continue…but House didn't.

Moments passed and the silence around the room was awkward. House jumped as Wilson let out a loud sigh and dropped his head.

Cane to the rescue. "Okay. Look, you're losing him. Just say it!"

"I don't know what to say," House blurted out at Cane, feeling frustrated by his own speechlessness. Then he remembered Wilson was sitting in front of him. He looked stunned by House's sudden outburst. House inwardly cringed at his own stupidity.

Wilson waited, nodding his head slightly, knowing that House would eventually find words.

House's thoughts quick-fired through his head, panicking in case Wilson lost his patience and walked out again. That wasn't what he wanted. _He's right in front of me and I can't say anything. Just great. I don't want him to leave. I don't want him to give up. He's gonna end up hating me. No, stop it. I don't do sensitive sappy stuff…_

"Maybe you should," a deep voice interrupted his thoughts.

_It's not like I mean everything I say…If he wasn't such a girl…_

"He's your best friend," Cane reminded House, "and you need him. Just tell him how you feel."

House glared at Cane once more; the idea of bringing up _feelings_ had never been so daunting. But Cane was right, as usual, he did _need_ Wilson, more than he'd ever care to admit.

So he began.

"Okay. Look, Wilson," Wilson looked House dead in the eyes. House took a deep breath and continued, "I know I can be impossible sometimes…most of the time. Hell, people say it often enough – I'm a selfish jerk and I have a habit of making other people miserable." House dropped his eyes to the couch and rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Maybe if you weren't such a girl about everything –"

"Not wise," Cane interrupted. House sighed.

"What I said…it was wrong and stupid and insensitive and I-I…you…" House shook his head. He hated 'talking' to Wilson. He had no use for these _deep_ moments; he only ever ended up revealing something he wanted to keep to himself. This time, he feared, would be no different. "Sometimes…I-I…I just say things…I say them and I don't necessarily mean them. They just come out and I can't help myself," House's tone was deadly serious, "I don't say them _just_ because I'm trying to be an ass…I say them because I need a way to get out of certain…_situations._"

It was then that it hit Wilson. It hit him like a blow to the back of the head. House, in his own weird way, became this hugely insensitive, callous jerk, not because he didn't _want_ to help, but because he didn't want to say the wrong thing. Wilson came to him for help. House dismissed him, said something hurtful and Wilson automatically thought he was being a selfish bastard. That he just didn't care. The truth was, House _did_ care…when the time came that Wilson needed support and advice, House hid behind his reputation. The jerk Dr House would never let his guard down for anyone, but in reality, he was just scared that the advice he would give, the things he could say to people – to Wilson – might be wrong. And _they_ might suffer.

House continued, "I'm telling you this because I'll probably never change…but I…I _need_ you, Wilson and I don't want you to…to leave." Finally House took a shaky breath and allowed himself to relax a bit more. Now everything was said and done, all that flowed through House's mind were the words, _que sera sera_ – whatever will be, will be. It was out of his control.

Wilson didn't say a thing. He was completely dumbfounded by how open House was being and realised how rare these moments were with House. He had been rendered speechless.

They sat in silence. Even _Cane_ had nothing to say at this moment.

_Tick_

_Tock_

_Tick_

_Tock_

"I don't think you're a selfish jerk," Wilson blurted out when he regained the use of his voice. His eyes met House's; mesmerized by the way the deep blue orbs seemed to show the relief House felt by simply hearing his voice again. "Look, House…I-I need you to know. I'd never leave, never give up on this. I said we had a _twisted_ friendship…and we do, but it's the best _twisted_ friendship I've ever had," Wilson's lips curled upwards into a small, sad smile, "you've sad it yourself. _This_," Wilson pointed to House and then back to himself, "_this _is never boring."

House smirked slightly and nodded in understanding. Wilson continued talking, "I know you hate all this 'talking about things and…and _feelings_,' but when I come to you with a problem, it's just because you're my friend. I don't expect you to know what I should do anymore than I do. Sometimes it's just nice to have someone to listen, y'know?" House nodded, now resting his chin on the handle of his cane. The whole situation was uncomfortable, but he was happy in the knowledge that once the conversation was over, it would be over for good. Wilson wouldn't bring it up again and House was damn sure that he wouldn't either. Wilson continued, this time with a more playful tone, helping to ease the air of tension between them, "I mean, if you honestly can't trust yourself to say anything good or helpful…or if you just don't know _what_ to say, House, I don't mind if you just listen..." House shot Wilson a quizzical look. Noticing the question in House's eyes, Wilson innocently answered, "Honestly, House. You don't have to say anything at all. I'll understand."

With that, House raised his eyebrows and gawped at Wilson, as thought to say; _now you tell me_!

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place? You could've saved yourself a lot of insults – _we_ could've saved ourselves a _lot _of unnecessary arguments!"

"_Lovers tiffs_ more like," Cane interjected. House had almost forgotten Cane was even listening.

_This isn't helping_, House thought.

"No, but it's fun." House immediately dropped Cane to the floor and kick him away from his feet. _That'll teach him_, House thought, a smile stretching across his face. Unbeknownst to him, Wilson was watching him intently, with a smile to match his own. Turning to look at each other, they both shared a laugh, neither knowing what they were laughing about, but both knowing it was what they needed.

As the laughter died down, House saw Wilson's expression harden somewhat. He was still smiling, but something in the way he was sitting told House that their talk wasn't quite over yet.

"Don't panic, House," Wilson said, noticing the anxiety etched into House's forehead, "I just want to say…don't be…_scared_ or worried about…about giving me friendly advice…or even unfriendly advice. I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it."

"It's stupid. Medical decisions, advice, _anything_, I'm fine with. Hell, when it comes to that, I'm a genius." House scoffed to himself before carrying on, "But people problems…I can barely deal with my own…I _always_ end up doing the wrong thing…I don't wanna mess up your life too." He dropped his gaze to his lap, embarrassed by his confession and annoyed at himself for allowing yet another brick to be torn from his wall of defence and feeling the fool for being the one that removed it.

"House, look at me…_Please_. It doesn't matter what you say to me. Either I take your advice or I don't. Ultimately, if things go wrong, it's my fault, not yours." Beginning to stand, he patted House twice on the knee, whispering the words "_never_ yours" before striding into the kitchen in search of snacks and beer.

It was over. He felt…better. He felt good. _Talking helped_, House thought, _who knew?_ He smiled to himself as he watched Wilson _House_-wife in the kitchen and he saw this as his cue to switch on the TV.

Moments later, Wilson came back in with a bowl of potato chips and too bottles of beer.

"_Monster Trucks?_" Wilson complained, handing a beer to House and placing the bowl of chips on the cushion between them.

"Problem?" House rolled his eyes towards Wilson.

Wilson sighed, "Nope." When 'Monster Trucks' was on, no force on Earth could stop House from watching it.

"You busy tomorrow?" House asked innocently.

"No, why?"

"I'm going cane shopping, wanna come with?"

"Sure."

With that, they both returned their attention to the TV.

For some reason, House felt less weighed down and he couldn't help but be a little thankful to Cane – however infuriating it was having someone read his thoughts.

_Everything is _finally_ out in the open_, House thought.

Their hands accidentally met in the chip bowl between them. House's hand lingered.

_Well…_almost_ everything._

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_**Okay, how was it? I hope you enjoyed it XD  
This fic will be getting a non-crack sequel very soon. Warning: it will be SLASHY! SO don't spoil this one by reading the sequel if you're not a slash fan.  
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this and/or review it. It means the world. Merry Christmas everyone (in case we don't cross paths again until after the holidays). Is it wrong that every time I see a candy cane now I think of House...?**_


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